<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Ease Up Kid by LemonCakeDesign</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26247709">Ease Up Kid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonCakeDesign/pseuds/LemonCakeDesign'>LemonCakeDesign</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Almost (Sweet Music) [18]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(tagging as I go), F/F, Friendship, Gen, Getting Back Together, Hair Braiding, Homesickness, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Nightmares, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Smoking, Training, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:34:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26247709</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonCakeDesign/pseuds/LemonCakeDesign</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Ease up kid, don’t you worry<br/>You'll be fine<br/>Simple worries have got you<br/>It's alright</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Prompt fills for FFXIV Write 2020!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alphinaud Leveilleur &amp; Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn/Warrior of Light, Sanson Smyth/Guydelot Thildonnet, Urianger Augurelt &amp; Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) &amp; Original Character(s), Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters, Y'shtola Rhul &amp; Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Almost (Sweet Music) [18]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535039</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prompt 1: Crux</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It wasn't the crux of the matter, for Urianger, that Pike be happy with him. His only goal was that the man lived long enough to be angry with him for his deception.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>No one would describe Urianger as an emotional man. He has been collected since birth, forgoing the usual screaming and crying of a babe to stare up at his mother with a calm, thoughtful expression. Instead of making friends, he poured himself into poetry, myth, and prophecy, because people were fraught and confusing and lacked simple answers, but how he interpreted the meanings of old words would always belong to him and him alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he loves, he loves deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike had tripped into all their lives, in a way, putting himself in the right place and the right time and always doing the right thing. At first, Urianger hadn’t thought much of him, wrapped up in his own work as he was. Pike was just another adventurer, another Echo user, and Urianger would trust him to take down primals, but that is where their relationship would begin and end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the Waking Sands had been attacked, and Urianger and his comrades had been dragged into Imperial custody. They spend days being questioned about Pike’s whereabouts, about their intentions, about their plans against Garlemald. They are beaten when they don’t give up the answers, Minfilia most of all as their leader.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the doors slide open and Urianger sees the blurry figure standing there, he thinks that he will give them </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> if it will save the rest of them further hurt. He doesn’t have to, though, because it is that faithful adventurer, slayer of primals, who is there to save them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank the Twelve,” Pike says when he unties them. “I’ve looked everywhere for you all. We must move quickly. I think Y’shtola and Yda are holding off the tribunus, but I don’t know how long that will last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t tell them anything,” Minfilia tells him, too quiet for anyone but Urianger and Pike to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minfilia, dearest,” Pike says, freeing her of her ropes, “You could have told them </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and the only thing that would matter to me is that you’re safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s then that Urianger decides: Pike is his friend, and he would trust him with his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the Exarch tells him of his plan, an idea to keep Pike alive at the cost of his own life, Urianger barely has to hesitate before he accepts to help him. Beyond the obvious answer that </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> needs to be done about the Light, Urianger’s loyalty lies with Pike well before it lies with the Exarch. If the man wishes to die to save his friend, Urianger will let him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely considers the fact that Pike will be angry with him, might never forgive him for it, even. A small price to pay, that Pike will be around to feel such anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things go wrong, and Urianger gets the worst of both worlds: Pike, furious beyond belief, and dying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger is not above cowardice. He avoids Pike as much as possible, letting the others have time with him to grieve. He busies himself with researching every option he can, bringing the most promising books with him to the Tempest and snatching away every option he can. None of them work, and he keeps going anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike finds him anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am beyond furious with you,” Pike says. “You knew how that would affect me, and you let him do it anyway. You didn’t give me a </span>
  <em>
    <span>choice</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew fair well what choice thou wouldst make,” Urianger says. He feels...angry, on Pike’s behalf, somehow. “And thus knew I could not well allow thee to have the chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike hisses, a sillibant noise that sends a chill down Urianger’s spine. “That was not your choice to make, Urianger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither was it thine,” Urianger says coolly. “‘Twas the Exarch’s, and his alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger watches Pike’s fist curl, the tension in his shoulders. He doesn’t bother to tense defensively, merely looking straight into Pike’s eyes. Then Pike loosens, and he droops suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am so </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Pike states, turning away from Urianger’s gaze, “Of people deciding their lives are worth less than mine. My sister was enough. My </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband</span>
  </em>
  <span> was enough. What makes me so special to be worth that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Urianger a few moments to puzzle out that statement. “Love, Pike. ‘Tis the most powerful force in the world. And though it hurts us, those we love would be most pleased to discover us still alive. How could we bear to squander the gifts they gave us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Pike’s husband had died, he’d sought Urianger out, had asked him with a broken voice how he’d gotten over Moenbryda’s death. He hadn’t been able to give a real answer, had merely squeezed Pike’s shoulder with an attempt to put everything he couldn’t say into a single motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d earned his first hug from Pike then, and had held him while he cried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike clearly remembers this, and his eyes shine faintly. For a brief, terrifying moment, Urianger believes it to be the Light, threatening to break through, but then the first tear falls from his face, and he has an armful of Pike. Urianger pats him gently on the back, still not used to the physical affection by now, but thankful for it all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be angry with you, when I die,” Pike says, muffled against Urianger’s robes. “So I’m forgiving you. But please don’t do anything like this again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger is not a crier. But he’s unashamed to say that he holds his dear friend close and cries, for the burden he’s placed upon him, and for the fact that a person he loves will no longer be with him soon.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There's no particular reason for the song choice, it's just one of my Pike songs and I love it. The song is Ease Up Kid by Hippo Campus.</p><p>Started off with this tidbit about Urianger! I <i>adore</i> Urianger, I think he's just fascinating. I think he really took Moenbryda's death to heart, and wants to do right by her. And thinking about that, in conjunction with what happened in Shadowbringers, is super interesting to me. I was originally going to add this into Constellations, but decided it worked better on it's own. Hopefully I didn't butcher Urianger's speech too badly! I did my best but Shakespearean speech patterns elude me, and I didn't want to fret over it too much.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Prompt 2: Sway</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It is here, cradled in the sway of the sea, that she thinks about her regrets.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Valliant Skye is many things: The Warrior of Light, a master of swords, an unlikely mother to a former assassin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before she was all that, she was a fisher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shortly after returning from the First, she returns to Limsa Lominsa. Besides the times she’s been forced to return for her work as the Warrior of Light, she hasn’t been to Limsa since she’d joined with the Flames. At first, before the Calamity, she’d honestly worried that Merlwyb would lock her up, just to keep her from the battlefield. And then, after…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After it hadn’t felt like home. It had felt like visiting a grave to her past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there’s no obligations today. Today she is visiting Limsa simply to visit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She starts with the orphanage. Valliant doesn’t expect there to be anyone there who remembers her. Pike had checked in for her, when she’d asked about the place, and the old woman who ran the place had perished during the Calamity, and the caretakers were a rotating cast. There’s a new director, she knows, but she doesn’t know who it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It turns out to be Anna. Last Valliant had seen Anna, she was a haunted Hyur teen with a younger sister that she fiercely protected. Now, she greets Valliant with a hug and a long winded lecture on not coming to visit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cecily’s gone to join with the Maelstrom,” Anna gushes to her, a proud smile (a rare sight when Valliant had last known her, now never far from her face) on her lips. “She remembered you, you know, and when she heard you were the Warrior of Light, she wanted to join your company. Unfortunately, she thought you were the one with the Maelstrom, since you and Merlwyb were...well. So she ended up joining with your friend’s squadron. She likes it, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad,” Valliant answers honestly. “Pike’s a good leader, I’m sure he treats her well.” And it’s nice to know her kid is looking out for one of her former charges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anna tells her about what kids Valliant remembers and she knows about. Most of them have found honest work, or honest enough for Valliant to feel well about them. Some of them, however, Anna frowns and looks away, before quietly confessing that they’d died in the Calamity or soon after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good news outweighs the bad, for the most part, and Valliant leaves the orphanage with a lightened heart and a promise to return soon. She notes the Maelstrom tail she’s picked up, who moves like he thinks he’s being subtle. To her, who’s son is a former spy, he looks like a bright red glowing spot in the crowd. She doesn’t pay him much mind, though, set on her next destination: a quick trip to the Fisher’s Guild. She’d promised her father’s boat to Wawalago after she left Limsa, and she should visit her former colleagues anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another lecture about not visiting sooner and catching up on the gossip, Valliant heads to the Fisher’s Guild docks. Her father’s boat floats there, in great condition (as Sisipu promised, bless her). She readies the small sailboat for departure, checking the sails and the rudder. Everything is in order, and she unties the boat from the dock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind catches the sails easily, and in short order she’s floating away from the city of pirates. The sun’s begun it's slow descent into the horizon, painting the water before in oranges and reds, and she runs a hand through the water, sending ripples through the colors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Limsa Lominsa is but a dot in the distance and the sun is long set, Valliant pulls the sails down, letting the boat rock with the gentle waves. She makes a mental note of how much the boat is drifting, then lays on the deck and stares up into the sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stars on the First are different from the ones here. It’s so disconcerting, sometimes, looking up at the sky and expecting a totally different set of lights to be staring back. She hadn’t expected to get used to the night on the First, certain that the night of home would be branded into her mind like the maker’s mark on her sword. But maybe she’d just been so happy to see stars again that she’d ignored it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Disconcerting as the sky might be, it’s also nostalgic. One of the first dates she’d taken Merlwyb on was to this exact spot. She’d packed them a light dinner and some nice wine, sailed them out into the middle of the Galadion Bay, and they’d laid on the deck and stargazed like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s been thinking on Merlwyb a lot, recently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first few weeks on the First, she hadn’t even thought of Merlwyb. It hadn’t sunk in, at that point, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> she might be there. She’d thought that the Exarch would summon Pike there, they’d spend a month or two hunting down Lightwardens, and then they’d be sent back to the Source, no worse for wear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By month two, Valliant had started dreaming about her. Snippets of their past, blended together by desperate longing, dreams that left her pillow wet when she woke in the morning, and a deep melancholy following her throughout the day. And when she’d started travelling, half her thoughts were </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlwyb would think this was beautiful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been easy, when she had a job to do, to ignore her still lingering feelings for Merlwyb. There was no time to pine when she needed to represent the Scion’s interests at Alliance meetings, no time to sit and wonder about how Merlwyb would like the scenery when she was there to kill a primal and move on. Any free time was thrown at beautiful women, like a good enough time would wipe away the feeling of Merlwyb’s skin, impossibly soft, from her fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tries that in the First, when travelling and killing Sin Eaters proves too simple to distract her. Valliant’s penchant for heroism and a general kindness never left her short of willing bed partners, but by the fifth time she’d nearly whispered Merlwyb’s name in the throes of passion, she’d set it to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a time, she’d fallen back on her Dark Knight crystal, hoping to pour the aching loneliness into her dark magic. It hadn’t done much, and the part of her that was Esteem was just sad right along with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want her back, too, Valliant,” she’d said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’d been tears on her face, and it was hard to see herself like that. She’d put the crystal away and turned back to her roots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was...better, in some ways, and worse in others. She’d taken up the sword and shield and earned her paladin soul crystal </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Merlwyb’s betrayal. It was nice to have a reminder of why she didn’t have a relationship with the woman anymore. A bitter, anger-inducing reminder. She’d balanced on that edge until Pike came back and she could focus her efforts on saving the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d thought it would all go back to normal when she got back to the Source. Valliant could just drop back into slaying primals and dozing during Alliance meetings and shoving every feeling she’d ever had for the Admiral of Limsa Lominsa into a box and storing on some dusty, distant shelf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d walked into her first Alliance meeting after returning, and the way Merlwyb’s face had lit up when she entered had taken a bull to that particular china shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s stupid, she thinks. Merlwyb hasn’t changed. She still looks stricken when Valliant mentions fighting a primal, or when she’s stepped off a battlefield. Valliant swears she has to have bitten back a lecture or two when Valliant’s shown up with visible bandages or bruises.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wouldn’t have bitten it back, before</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a voice that sounds strangely like Esteem whispers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Have you given her a chance to change?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Valliant is regretting ever picking up that soul crystal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did I even come to Limsa?” she says out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we need resolution.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valliant sighs. “Esteem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her own face smiles back down at her. “You seemed like you required my guidance. Though, this is just you speaking to yourself, so you should already know all this. But you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> good at doling out advice and never taking it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I won’t,” Esteem says. “We came to Limsa Lominsa because you thought it would help to make a decision. We still love Merlwyb because when we left, we thought it would help her realize we were right. We always thought it would be temporary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Valliant says. “But it’s not. So why am I still pining after her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re still hoping she’ll change. But you refuse to give her a chance, because you’re scared of being hurt again. Rip the bandage off, Valliant. Either she’ll change or we’ll know to let go, and we’ll begin to heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels Esteem fade, even though she’s not looking at her. Damn her, she’s right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valliant stands, opening the sails and returning home. The wind has turned back to the city, by this point, making the journey quick, and there’s a tall, pale figure waiting for her at the docks when she returns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valliant pulls the boat astride the dock, and Merlwyb catches the rope she throws to her. A familiar routine, how Merlwyb used to greet her when she returned from fishing for the day, and it weighs Valliant’s shoulders down as she jumps over the side of the boat and onto the dock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back,” Merlwyb says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To the city or to the Source?” Valliant gives her a wry grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both, I suppose.” Merlwyb doesn’t fidget, too dignified for that, but Valliant can feel the anxious energy rolling off her in waves. “It’s been a long time since you came to Limsa Lominsa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has. I was gone for a while, and I felt…” Valliant shrugs. “Homesick, in a way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Valliant, I…” Merlwyb starts, and shakes her head. “I have no right to ask forgiveness of you. I hurt you deeply.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did,” Valliant acknowledges. She sighs and crosses to the edge of the dock, sitting down. Merlwyb sits down next to her. “Pike nearly died on the First.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlwyb sucks in a deep breath. “He didn’t mention. Though I suppose he wouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he wouldn’t.” Valliant laughs a little. “But, I...for the first time, I understood you, Merlwyb. Pike was already so strong when I met him, it was hard to believe anything could ever kill him. And then, after he was healed...I’d seen him so weak, so close to death. And I didn’t want him out on that battlefield again. He’s the closest thing I’ve got to family, since my dad died, and I didn’t want to lose him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlwyb is quiet, so Valliant continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And even then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>even then</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ask him to give that up. Thancred wouldn’t ask that of him. Merlwyb, I can understand how you felt, but I couldn’t understand you asking that of me. I can’t just give up on doing good because it will make you feel good. Too many people have died because no one was there to save them. How could you ask me to let that happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlwyb looks out at the waves, glittering with starlight. “Because I love you, Valliant, and I am a selfish woman who would do anything to protect what she loves. You need only look at Limsa herself to see. The amount of times Leviathan or Titan have been summoned because I worry that if we let them, the beast tribes will rise up against us. I took away the way of life for so many people because piracy scares other countries, and if Limsa is to live, she needs allies.” She shakes her head. “And I treated you like a city, like I was the Admiral over you, because I love you, and that is the only way I know how to love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there any hope for us?” Valliant asks, the words spilling from her unbidden. “Would you be able to stop that, for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to say yes,” Merlwyb says, biting her lip. “I want to tell you that I would be able to let you be as you are. But I...don’t know if I could.” She turns to Valliant, looking her directly in the eyes. “I could try. I would try for you, Valliant. I won’t promise any further.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valliant places a hand on Merlwyb’s cheek. “That’s all I could ask of you, Merly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leans in and kisses Merlwyb for the first time in years. It feels like coming home.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As an apology for a huge lack of Valliant content in recent Constellations chapters, a whole story with Valliant!</p><p>I waffled so long on whether they get back together or not. I'm still not sure if they should have, but dammit, Valliant wants Merlwyb and she deserves good things. Also Esteem! Valliant was a Dark Knight for Heavensward and part of Stormblood, according to the vague timeline me and her player have sketched out. I've wanted to play around in the Dark Knight side of things for a while, but haven't seen the right place to include this. Playing a bit fast and loose with how often Esteem would manifest, maybe, but it fit narratively so there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Prompt 3: Muster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's time for Pike to see if the new bard recruits pass muster.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s time for Pike to see if the baby bards pass muster</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen up recruits!” Pike says, striding before the gathered archers, arms crossed behind his back. He gives them a glare. “You may think that your training has given you the distinction to be called a bard, but the honor of granting that title falls to me. You’ll have to prove yourselves worthy of the soul crystals.” He gives them a menacing smile. “And I am a harsh judge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he have to do this?” Sanson whispers to Guydelot. “He’s terrifying them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely, it’s hilarious,” Guydelot replies. “Look at the one on the end. I think he may pee himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike finishes his lecture, detailing what, exactly, they will do to earn their crystals. A simple task, really: they have to duel him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have two weeks to prepare,” he states. “Research my weaknesses, practice your musical skills, and keep your arrows sharp. Any questions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it a bad idea to shoot arrows at the Warrior of Light?” The boy Guydelot pointed out asks nervously. “We could hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike looks at him for a moment. Then he laughs, hard, nearly doubling over with the effort. “That’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says. “You think you’re going to hurt me. Absolutely adorable. What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adax Vovane, sir,” the Elezen stammers out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adax, I have spent over a decade on the field of battle,” Pike says. “In that time, the only mortal who laid a serious blow on me was the Crown Prince of Garlemald himself, and he had to be possessed by an immortal to manage it.” Pike pinches Adax’s cheek. “You’ll be given rubber tipped arrows, though, just in case. I’d prefer you to come at me with live steel, but I give people too many heart attacks as is, apparently. Any other questions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be coming at us with bow or sword in hand, sir?” A girl asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be telling, but a good question,” Pike says, leaning over to look at her. “You’d be Khona, then. Sanson said you were bright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Khona nods, her ears flicking a bit with the praise. “And what criteria will you be grading us on, sir? It can’t be that we need to beat you, as that would hardly be a fair fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another good question that I won’t answer,” Pike says. “One hint, though: I’m giving you two weeks to prepare. You won’t get that in most battles, but occasionally, during planned attacks, you can research and spot weaknesses. Finding them in an army is a lot easier than finding them on a person, so if you learn to do it with me, you’ll be well set for the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Khona nods carefully. “Thank you for your wisdom.” She gives him a Serpent salute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Any more questions? No? Then you’re dismissed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The recruits file out, sending brief glances to Pike as he bounds up to Guydelot and Sanson. They don’t speak much to each other, save for Khona, who yanks on Adax’s arm and begins whispering to him. Pike </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> attempt to listen in on her conversation, but she’s clearly trying to keep her voice low and Pike respects the effort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d I do?” He asks Sanson. “I was trying to make them fear me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adax nearly pissed himself,” Guydelot answers. “The rest of them looked quite nervous. Save for Khona, but she’s made of sterner stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We Keepers usually are,” Pike says with pride. “Especially in the Shroud. I was surprised, when I got here after Limsa, how many people immediately mistrusted me. Nobody trusts anyone in Limsa, of course, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s different,” Sanson agrees. “I’ve been trying to recruit more Keepers, recently, show people that they’re just people, all the same as us, but they don’t trust it. Khona’s the only one in her cohort, and there’s only two in the group below her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give it time,” Pike says. “Especially when the ones you have get promoted, they can do the recruiting, and everyone will be more at ease with each other. Hopefully. Anyway, we’re off track. Do you have any pointers for me? This is the first time I’ve done this without Jehantel, and I’m not sure I did it properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems fine to me,” Sanson replies. “He did not have them duel him, though. What was wrong with the showcase?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, really,” Pike says. “It’s just not practical. Nobody is going to wait for you to stay still and aim at the target, they’ll be ducking and weaving. Playing music in the midst of battle is a lot harder than standing on a stage and delicately picking your way through the Mage’s Ballad. And...well. I have another bone thrown in the works. You’ll see on the day of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keeping secrets, are we?” Guydelot says, ruffling Pike’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful, or I’ll make you fight to keep your </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> crystal,” Pike says, fixing his hair with a scowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanson snorts. “I wish you would, some days. Do you know how many songs he’s written making fun of my hair? As if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> has any room to argue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of us spend more than a few seconds on our appearance, Sanson,” Guydelot says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet all those hours in our bathroom have done nothing for that mess you call your hair! Amazing, that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Our</span>
  </em>
  <span> bathroom?” Pike says, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, did you guys finally get over your weird animosity and get together? When’s the wedding?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Sanson and Guydelot go bright red.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The day of the duel dawns, and Khona feels nerves creep over her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite her careful planning, sharing notes with Adax and making plans together, she still feels anxious. She’s been training </span>
  <em>
    <span>so hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> to become a bard, to put her bowmanship and beautiful voice to good use. She’d lost too many friends to the Garleans and the Calamity, and she wanted to do something about it. But, if she couldn’t impress the Warrior of Light, all that would go to waste, and she didn’t know where she would go from there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steps into the Adder’s Nest, Adax at her side. Adax looked even more nervous than she felt, and getting him to stop panicking long enough to stand in formation before the Warrior of Light makes a welcome distraction from what she’s sure is her impending doom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Warrior of Light steps into the Adder’s Nest right as she’s fixed her posture. She meets his gaze as he glances over her cohort, and she swears she sees a smile, an </span>
  <em>
    <span>amused</span>
  </em>
  <span> smile, ghost over his lips before he about-faces and begins to address the recruits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome, prospective bards, to your final assessment.” Pike sweeps cold eyes over them. “Today, you will engage in battle with me, and I will see if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserve</span>
  </em>
  <span> the crystal you seek. Before we begin, though, we must make our way to the site of battle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Eric, one of the more arrogant members of their cohort, asks. “The Adders have a more than adequate training grounds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Adders do, indeed,” Pike replies. “But not nearly large enough for you all to come at me at once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Khona feels ice down her spine. Judging by the looks that cross her comrades’ faces, they weren’t expecting this either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>duel</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Pike says, idly examining the recruits before him. “I never said that it would be one-on-one combat. Bards work better as part of a squadron, after all. Now, the grounds of Carteneau are more than wide enough for the whole of us, and I have special permission from all three leaders to take you there. Our airship awaits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He motions to Guydelot and Captain Sanson, who fall into step with him, and the cohort of archers follows them to the airship landing. As they walk, Khona hears Captain Sanson start to talk to Pike. “So this was the surprise you mentioned?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! The showcase is too </span>
  <em>
    <span>individual</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Why should they show off their personal skills when they’re meant to work with teams? I want to rate their teamwork among other things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Khona feels cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not unfriendly, not by a long shot. She’s made friends with plenty of people, like Adax, the other kids of her mother’s hunting group, several of the merchants in Gridania, and countless others. But several of the other bards-in-training are Elezen and Hyur who don’t look too kindly on Keepers, and she’s gotten the cold shoulder from most of her group recently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adax will work with her, she knows, but she doesn’t want to drag his own performance down with her. She’ll just have to figure out something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tries, she really does, when they reach the airship. She steps in front of the group of Adders and says, “We need to work together, if we’re going to have a chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eric sneers at her. “What would a Keeper know about working together? I bet you just want to find out our plans and use them for yourself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>poacher</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hardly the worst thing he could call her, but it still stings. “That’s not it! You heard the Warrior of Light, he said that bards work better as part of a squadron. And I overheard him talking—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, you ‘overheard’ him,” Eric interrupts. “I don’t believe it for a second. You’re just out for yourself, as is usual of your species.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Khona opens her mouth to respond, but then there’s a sharp whistle from the front of the airship. “Carteneau looms, little bardlings,” Pike says. “Better have a good plan, or you’re all gonna </span>
  <em>
    <span>fail</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He sings the last bit at them, then moves to the side of the airship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pike!” Captain Sanson shouts worriedly, but Pike just gives him a jaunty wave and falls backwards out of the airship. Khona rushes to the side, part of her wondering if they won’t have to do this stupid exam after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dragon rises before her, and she bites back a scream as it swoops over the airship. Pike cackles madly from its back. “Can’t give you all too many advantages!” He calls, as he disappears into the thick swirling clouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guydelot guffaws from beside Captain Sanson. “Proper showmanship is important for bards!” He calls to the archers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, you can tell Valliant he jumped from an airship,” Captain Sanson says, standing. Ignoring Guydelot’s sudden sputtering, he addresses the archers. “We’ll land in a few moments. Pike says that the exam starts as soon as you land, and ends when he calls it, or if I or Guydelot determine it too dangerous to continue. Do your best, and make the Adders proud, recruits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain,” they shout as one, giving him a firm salute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The airship lands bumpily, and the archers depart. Khona opens her mouth to address them again, one last attempt to garner support, but Eric charges off before she can speak, and three others peel off after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to fail,” Khona whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m with you,” Adax says, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Though I don’t think we’ll be much against the Warrior of Light.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Khona,” a voice says behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Khona turns. Three of their cohort, minus herself and Adax, remain. There’s Elaine, Ben, and Styrnlona, all of whom look at her expectantly. Elaine, the one to speak, steps forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the best tactician of us all,” Elaine says, noting her look. “And I overheard Mister L’oatel and Captain Sanson earlier, as well. I know we’ve never been friendly, but...but I want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>pass</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and you’re talented enough to bring us across the finish line. Besides, it’s not as if I’ll always get to work with my friends.” She nods to Styrnlona and Ben.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a full cohort, but Khona will take what she can get. “I don’t have a full plan,” she admits. “But here’s what I’ve got so far…”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Pike yawns from his perch on top of the Maelstrom outpost. Maybe it’s a bit telling to head to his company’s outpost, but Pike’s only been to this place twice, once while scoping it out (under much supervision) for today, and he knows the outpost the best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rustle in a nearby bush has him sending out a warning shot, and he sighs when there’s a yelp of pain. The recruit (Eric, he thinks Sanson called him) tumbles out of the bush, rubbing his arm. Pike whistles the tune of Peloton, and he feels his pace quicken as he runs across the wooden wall to alight next to Eric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should’ve kept your hiding place, little Adder,” Pike says. “Harder to hit someone with arrows when they’re right up on you. If you’d kept quiet, I might have even thought you an animal and let you be long enough for you to get a decent shot on me. As it stands, you’ve lost points for revealing your position. So, where’s the rest of you? I’m sufficiently distracted by your clear tomfoolery, so why aren’t they firing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would there be others with me?” Eric says snottily, drawing his bow. “This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> exam. You’re grading me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you a paladin? Or a marauder? Or even a dragoon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-of course not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you expecting to be able to act like one?” Pike snatches the arrow that Eric fires at him out of the air and snaps it in two. “Why did you pick up archery, little Adder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father was second only to Jehantel in his prowess,” Eric says with a sniff. “Why shouldn’t I be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re not suited for it,” Pike says. “You’re brash, and in my face, and you seem to be obsessed with working on your own. Archers are the supports on which our armies rest. Our swordsmen and lancers can take to the field with our careful eyes to watch them and cover their backs. Chasing glory will only get your comrades killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike steps forward and easily wrests the bow from Eric’s stunned hands. “Start over. Train with a lance. Or learn to be humble. But you will not earn the honor of being called a bard with your current arrogance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guydelot is twice as arrogant as you proclaim me to be!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guydelot has worked with Captain Sanson for two years,” Pike responds. He tosses the bow over the wall of the outpost. “He saved that man from captors personally, even though it was a dangerous situation that he could have let others handle. He has his moments, but he has demonstrated to me, time and time again, that he cares for his common man, that he is a good person, that he is worthy of being called my friend. Don’t you dare compare yourself to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike reaches up to his linkpearl. “Sanson, can you come collect Eric? He’s finished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We heard. Guydelot’s crying, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distantly, Pike hears Guydelot choke out, “No I’m not!” Pike laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanson arrives on chocobo, collecting Eric, who’s slumped against the wall. Before Sanson departs, Pike leans in next to Eric’s ear. “Oh, one more thing. If I </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> hear you call another Keeper names because you don’t like that she’s better than you, it won’t be your bow that I take from you. Understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eric’s eyes widen, and Pike gives Sanson the nod to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the chocobo departs, he hears another rustle in the leaves, and sighs, wondering what baby bard he’ll have to teach the lesson to this time. He fires the arrow lazily, but doesn’t hear it strike anything in the bush. He tilts a head at it, then carefully steps over to the bush, casting his senses about for any signs of movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s two arrows in the bush. The fletching on the second isn’t his typical sparrow feathers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike barely dodges the arrow that fires at him, and he turns in the direction it came from, firing as he goes. There’s a flash of movement, and his attacker jumps to the next tree, avoiding his shot. Pike fires a few more times, but he can’t get a good enough read on the archer to land any.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a series of quick footsteps behind him, and Pike turns, dropping his bow in favor of drawing his sword (wooden, of course). He meets the fist that comes down on him from the Roe recruit, who grins at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four arrows whistle down from the trees, and Pike throws the Roe away from him in an attempt to dodge. One sticks in the dirt just to his right, too short to have hit him, and the other glides just passed his ear. But two land true, one striking him in the back of his head, and the other over his heart. Both killing blows, if it weren’t for the fact that they were rubber tipped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike blinks. Then he presses his free hand to his ear. “Sanson? Exam’s over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Roe recruit, at his words, backs up. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exams over. You and your fellows would have killed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I had a whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>plan</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Khona whines, dropping out of the tree behind him. “I was going to play Army’s Paeon and everything, so Styrnlona would be faster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, too bad, kitten.” Pike gives her a grin, and she pouts. He looks out at her little group of five. “You all surprised me! I didn’t realize Sanson had you training in hand to hand. An oversight on my part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t,” Khona says, falling into step with Pike as they make their way back to the landing point. “Styrnlona trained as a pugilist in Ul’dah before she joined with Adders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t get very far with it,” she states with a grin. “But I learned enough to draw attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m impressed,” Pike replies. “So, who’s arrows hit me? Khona’s, clearly, you were in the right position for it. You’ve got a wicked strength, too, that bruise on my head will last for weeks. But the heart shot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, that would be me?” Adax says. “It was the only part I could hit around Styrnlona.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who was worried about hitting me! Well, you’ll be deadly on the battlefield, that’s for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Elezen girl coughs quietly. “Did we pass?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike blinks. “What? Oh, yeah. You five passed weeks ago. I’ve been watching your progress for a while, and you’re very talented.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Khona squeaks. “B-but, you said—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A logical ruse,” Pike states. “If you hadn’t stepped up and worked together, I may have reconsidered, but you all seemed open to working with others, and I had no doubts. In fact, Eric is the only one</span>
  <em>
    <span> not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to pass. The other three banded together when it was clear that they wouldn’t get a shot off on me alone. They still didn’t, but it was a good effort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eric didn’t pass?” The Hyur boy asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a racist little asshole. I’m not letting him taint the crystals. And the Moogles hate him. Sanson’s been trying to get rid of him since he started, but his father is powerful, so he needed a neutral third party to get rid of him.” Pike looks around at the recruits. “I probably should not have said that to you all. Don’t repeat it, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all give him a salute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Today,” Pike says, standing on the stage in Mih Khetto’s Amphitheatre, “I have the honor of presenting to you the Twin Adder’s newest bards. Each one of them is a bright, capable individual, and will be an honor to your esteemed Company. As I call their names, they shall ascend the stage, accept their crystal and harp, and be considered a fully fledged Bard in the eyes of both myself, and the Moogles who grant us these treasures. Elaine Bracasane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike calls each of the names in turn, and greets each of the recruits with a bow, handing over their crystal and harp. He is the pinnacle of perfection, reading each name without stumbling. Save one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Khona L-L’oatel,” he says, blinking owlishly at the list. He recovers by the time she ascends the stage, but his hands shake as he hands over the crystal and harp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the ceremony, when the new bards have gathered together, messing with their harps, Pike sidles up to Sanson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That she shared a surname with you? Of course.” Sanson shrugs. “Keepers have repetitive surnames, do they not? I assumed that was the case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t heard mine outside of Ilsabard,” Pike says. “It’s a hybrid name. One of my ancestors was a Seeker, and he passed his name down as our family name. The Tia and Nunh dynamic died out in Mystel shortly after the Sixth Astral era began, apparently, and he had nothing else to give his son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So she’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A cousin, I think,” Pike says. “My father had a cousin who fled after Garlemald conquered Mystel.” He smiles wryly. “It’s funny. I thought all my family had died out. It’s nice to know some of us are left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to say anything to her?” Sanson asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think so. She barely knows me, and I’m too much in the public face anyway. And she…” Pike tilts his head. “She kind of looks like my sister, but blonde. It would feel like I’m trying to force her to be a replacement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” Sanson shrugs one shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on her for you, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Sanson. Oh, how do you feel about training new archers in hand-to-hand? Styrnlona got the drop on me during the exam, and it got me thinking…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unbeknownst to the two of them, a blonde haired Miqo’te slips away, having overheard every word.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Khona L'oatel is my (real) sister's character. I hadn't planned to include her in Pike's story, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up, really. If you see her on Crystal, say hi and be nice for me, please! She's enjoying the game quite a lot.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Prompt 4: Clinch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"I've been thinking of taking up smoking. This clinches it!"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Self Harm</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Do you smoke?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t before. You offering?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, here, let me light it for you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He coughs, against the heat of the smoke in his lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a little rough the first few times. It’ll settle down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the fuck do you do this shit? It’s awful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good for the nerves. And it passes time during the longer assignments. Just make sure you don’t leave any butts behind. Evidence, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm. Spymaster’d have my ass for that shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d be lucky if it was your ass, Pike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike laughs. He takes another drag of the cigarette. It’s still awful, but...but he thinks he could get used to this. He can feel a vague sense of calm settling over his nerves, like the tobacco is a warm blanket on a cold night.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Pike’s fingers twitch like they haven’t in a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d kicked the smoking habit in Thavnair. Bodyguards didn’t have time for smoke breaks, and the rich and powerful found it distasteful. Bodyguards weren’t supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they were hired bodies who would put themselves between you and the danger because you paid them enough for loyalty. Simple humanizing habits like </span>
  <em>
    <span>addictions</span>
  </em>
  <span> weren’t part of that image.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been depressingly easy to give up. The pain, the way his hands shook after the first week, the haunting dreams that left him sweaty in a rented room—all of this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span> to a man who’d given up his home and his sister’s life to save what remained of everything that made him good. To double up on that felt only like karmic justice. He’d replaced the need for a cigarette with dogged devotion to whatever rich asshole he was guarding that time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theoretically, he shouldn’t even want a cigarette right now. Things were </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>—his friends were home, recovering in the infirmary, G’raha was alive and thriving, Pike was in love again. All these things left him feeling like a sudden weight had been lifted off his chest, and he could breathe clearly again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Pike just didn’t know how to trust a good thing, anymore, and he wants some way to ruin it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some unbidden reason, he tracks down a pack of cigarettes. They don’t smoke cigarettes in Eorzea, usually preferring pipes, but Rowena’s got a set of imports that contain his usual brand. He slides her a handful of gil and the pack is his, burning a hole into his pocket as he returns to the Rising Stones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a handful of places Pike can go in the Stones when he wants to be alone. The training grounds at night, the rooftop of the building, and his room. The roof reminds him of being on assignment, perched in a tree or a cliff, watching his target go about their business while debating the best time to put an arrow through their skull. It seems like as good a place as any, if he’s going to be indulging in old habits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits on the edge of the building, turning the pack over in his hands, considering it. The mascot is a cat painted in cobalt blue, glaring up at him as if it’s judging his decisions. He scowls back at it and pulls a long, thin tube from the pack. His old lighter is in his barracks room back in Garlemald, if it hasn’t been found and destroyed already, but a fire shard is a good enough substitute. He lights it and draws in a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike goes through two of them before someone finds him on the roof. It’s Thancred. It’s always Thancred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t realize you smoked,” he says, sitting next to Pike on the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike shrugs. “I don’t. Not anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“According to Sharlayan science, it’ll shorten your lifespan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike snorts, sucking in the last dregs of the cigarette. He tosses the butt into the training grounds below him, a concession to the fact that he’s not a Frumentarius anymore, and pulls another from the pack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred lays a hand on his, stopping the motion. “Pike. What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing.” Thancred gives him a flat look, and Pike scowls, looking away. “Really, nothing. I have all of my family nearby, you’re fine, we’re in love. Nothing is wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet you’re smoking, which you’ve never done before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I smoked in Garlemald, on missions. One of the men I slept with introduced me to it, and it passed the time.” Pike pulls his hand free and lights the cigarette, drawing in deep drag. “Guess it might remind me of the past.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred is quiet for some time. “I don’t think it’s good for you to relive your past, somehow,” he says, finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, definitely not.” Pike pulls in another drag off the cigarette. “But I wanted to, so I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Thancred says, tone sharp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike shrugs. “Just did. I’m a fucked person, Thancred, you know this. I do terrible things to myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you’d talk to me, instead of just going off and doing these things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I try,” Pike says. He ashes the cigarettes, watching the white specks fall until they disappear into the wind. “But I can’t always put it into words. Sometimes...sometimes it’s just the craving for a cigarette. Or the urge to throw myself into a battle, or sleep with someone who’ll treat me rough. I used to get drunk, too, but the Blessing makes that a non-starter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twelve,” Thancred says. “I didn’t know. Have you...with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Pike shakes his head. “Except after Haurchefant, but you knew that. It didn’t...it didn’t make me feel better with you. Because I actually care about you, and you care about how I feel, so it was just hurting the both of us. I don’t like hurting others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t like hurting yourself, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> feeling this way, Thancred. But I can’t ignore it. It feels like my skin is trying to slough itself off and it itches like anything, and it just gets worse the more I ignore it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred’s arm snakes around Pike’s waist. “I’m sorry, Pike. I wish I could fix that for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do, to a degree,” Pike says, leaning into his touch. “It happens less when you’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad for that, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike takes one final drag off his cigarette, and blows the last of the smoke into the night air. The faint breeze carries it away, and he imagines some of the weight going away with it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I saw the prompt for today, it reminded me of the quote in the summary. It's from the movie Johnny Dangerously, which is one my parents adore and quote constantly. And I've had the thought that Pike used to smoke when he was a Frumentarius for a while, but couldn't find the place to mention it.</p><p>All of Pike's talk about self harm comes from my own struggles with it. I don't want to claim that any of this holds true for other people who've struggled with self harm or anything, just that it's my own views on the subject. None of this is how you should deal with it either (though I can't say that I know the best coping mechanisms for self harm and depression, myself). If you're struggling with self harm, depression, or suicidal thoughts, <a href="https://afsp.org/suicide-prevention-resources">here is a link to resources in the US,</a> and <a href="https://www.iasp.info/resources/Crisis_Centres/">here is a collection of international resources</a>. If any of you have some better resources I can link, please let me know!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Prompt 5: Matter of Fact</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"As a matter of fact, I <i>am</i> a slut."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Urianger hasn’t looked Pike in the eyes since he found him on his knees before Thancred yesterday in the storage room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike feels more embarrassed by that than anything else, really. It’s not the first time Pike’s been caught like that—probably not even in the first several dozen. He has a bad habit of getting far too horny to think about petty things like “public proximity” and “locking doors,” and he’d roomed with a dozen or so soldiers all in the best shape of their lives in boot camp. Things like that were bound to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he’s more shamed that Urianger might have felt uncomfortable being subjected to that. Pike hasn’t spent much time in Urianger’s presence, but it’s enough that he genuinely enjoys him. Urianger has a taste for poetry and composition that none of the other Scions share, and he makes an excellent sounding board for Pike’s creative exploits. He’d hate to lose such a wonderful friend over this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’ll apologize, he thinks, when Urianger’s had a few days to forget what Pike looks like with a dick in his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only Urianger finds him first, his cheeks faintly pink as he asks Pike for a minute of his time in the library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Urianger,” Pike says, and stands to follow him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The library is about the best place for a private conversation, save one of their bedrooms (too apt a reminder, Pike thinks). Nobody really enters the place except for the two of them if they don’t need to research something in particular, and there’s enough shelves to put a whole room full of barriers between them and any other parties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger leads him into the materials on diseases, a place nobody else would need to go, and stops. He stares at Pike for nearly a full minute, as Pike leans against the cool brick wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Urianger,” Pike finally says, after the scrutiny starts to feel uncomfortable. “Is this about yesterday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pink flush returns to Urianger’s cheek. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry you had to see me like that,” Pike says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worry not,” Urianger says, eyes flitting away from Pike. “I have banished the image from mine memory. Nay, ‘tis another matter concerning that encounter that I wish to speak on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, okay.” Pike tilts his head in confusion. “What is it, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thancred is a great comrade, and I dislike to speak ill of him,” Urianger says. “But thou art young, and I fear...</span>
  <em>
    <span>inexperienced</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the ways of love. Thancred is...a philanderer, and I do not wish for thee to be hurt by his carelessness. Thou must needs be made aware that Thancred doth not return thine feelings, no matter what he hath ‘confessed’ to thee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Urianger,” Pike says, chest feeling warm. “Are you trying to protect me from getting my heart broken by Thancred?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s really sweet of you,” Pike says, laying a hand on Urianger’s arm. “But he probably needs protection from </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot pretend to understand thine meaning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t seriously have not noticed,” Pike laughs. “I don’t spend most of my nights in the rooms you’ve provided me for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>reason</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Urianger, and that reason is that the pretty men are usually found further afield than the Waking Sands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger opens his mouth, and his face goes straight to tomato colored. He closes his mouth, opens it again, and then closes it once more. Pike can’t believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is how he finally renders Urianger speechless. Finally, in a stuttering tone, he says, “I-I had not realized, that thou art…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A slut?” Pike fills in. “Yeah. Sorry you had to find out like this, I guess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thou art quite different in thine mannerisms than Thancred,” Urianger replies. “It did not seem like a possibility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you said, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> young,” Pike says with a grin. “Really, though, it means a lot that you were trying to warn me. I didn’t realize you would care that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would do the same for any of our comrades,” Urianger says. He’s still very red, and if his hood were down, Pike would wager that the tips of his ears were glowing, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good on you, then,” Pike replies. “I’ll...let you get back to whatever work my sex life interrupted, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Tis much appreciated,” Urianger says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, one thing, Urianger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike gives him a smirk. “If you ever want more than a good memory, let me know, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The innuendo takes a second to register on Urianger’s face, but seeing the normally so well put-together man so flustered is worth the wait for Pike.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I honestly don't know what this is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ For some reason, the phrase "As a matter of fact, I<i>am</i> a slut" was the only thing that popped into my head when I read the prompt. There is no quote attached to that. It's just my brain providing whatever the heck it wants with no prompting from anyone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Prompt 6: Freedom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It feels sad, he thinks. But it feels more like freedom, too.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Referenced abuse in the form of forced hair cutting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Pike, as a rule, doesn’t wash his hair very often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has a lot of it, you see, and it takes a lot of complicated braiding to keep his hair out of his face. So it behooves him to only wash it once or twice a week, and braid it up the rest of the time, hiding the dirt and grease that builds up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It also means that only Valliant ever really sees him with his hair down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a little while since he’s washed it, and it’s starting to feel gross. Pike </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> waiting until Valliant got back, because the braids always ended up a little looser than he liked, meaning he had to redo them pretty quickly, but she’s been delayed until the next day, and the creeping feeling of untidiness is too much for him to bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since he does it so irregularly, Pike spends a lot of time washing his hair. He finger combs his hair before he gets into the shower, making sure it’s as untangled as it can get while dry, then starts in on the routine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pays Rowena a small fortune in gil every time he resupplies, but it’s necessary. He got used to a brand of hair soap in Thavnair, one with a gentle scent specifically for Miqo’te so he’s not overwhelmed, and since it’s a proprietary recipe, the alchemists have not been able to recreate it to his satisfaction without sacrificing something. So he imports it directly from the manufacturer, and Rowena takes great pleasure in taking his hard-earned money.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike isn’t too put-out by it, though, because she’d also found him a special conditioning cream that keeps his hair clean for longer, and a comb that manages to not excessively pull at the myriad tangles in his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike starts the shower, cranking the knob just a bit too far to the heat side. He knows it’s bad for his skin, but it can’t be worse than the myriad scars dotting his body, and the heat is nice in the rainy season of Mor Dhona. He’s used to the cold, from Garlemald and Coerthas, but there’s something so bone-deep about the rain here that leaves him shivering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally enters, he spends an eternity making sure each strand of hair is cleaned, conditioned, and gently de-tangled. He has to re power the fire clusters in the shower more often than most people because of this, but it’s so worth the result in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps into the bedroom, his hair mostly dried after he’d spent another several minutes cleaning his face and brushing his teeth, and steps to the wardrobe to put on his soft sleep clothes. There’s a soft thud behind him, and Pike turns to see Thancred on the bed, a book having slipped through his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred is one of the few exceptions to Pike’s constant paranoia; once he’d put the whole of his heart in the man’s hands, the part of him that was constantly scanning for threats had added Thancred to background noise like furniture and (non-sentient) plant life. When Pike is sufficiently distracted, he can not even notice Thancred is there. It had made Thancred laugh and smile tenderly when he’d first startled Pike by coming up behind him and kissing him on the neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Thancred,” Pike says, pulling his clothes from the wardrobe. “Sorry, did I startle you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-you-hair?” Thancred stutters, and Pike touches it, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there something wrong with it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike blinks. “Have we seriously gotten this far into our relationship without you seeing my hair down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> surprising, really. Valliant hasn’t been gone longer than a couple days since Thancred and Pike have been together. But this is one of the most vulnerable parts of Pike, something he’d shared with Haurchefant after only a few </span>
  <em>
    <span>days</span>
  </em>
  <span> of them being serious. It’s almost funny that it’s taken Thancred this long to see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Thancred says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike pulls on the last of his sleep clothes and pads over to the bed. He sits in front of Thancred. “Do you want to touch it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Thancred says again, choked, and he reaches out a hand to run it through Pike’s hair, reverent through the curls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike leans into his hand, purring softly. It’d stunned him, how fast the purring came with Thancred, but Thancred exudes a thick aura of safety that Pike can’t help but relax into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so soft.” Thancred’s other hand is in his hair now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’d better be,” Pike says, purr still rumbling deep in his throat. “I pay Rowena out the nose for my products.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred nods, distant expression on his face, and continues to play with Pike’s hair. It’s relaxing enough that Pike finds himself tipping forward, chest rumbling like an earthquake with how hard he purrs. He rests a head on Thancred’s thigh and nearly falls asleep as Thancred cards his hands through his thick tresses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You normally braid it,” Thancred says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike nods, still purring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I braid it for you?” Thancred asks, softly. “I can’t claim to be able to perform your normal complicated updo, but I got a lot of practice doing simple braids on Ryne’s hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might fall asleep on you,” Pike warns. “I do a lot, on Valliant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need more rest, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred releases his hair long enough for Pike to stand and find one of his ties and his comb. “Just the one, I think,” Pike says as he hands it over. “I’ll have Valliant re-do it when she returns.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let the master fix the apprentice’s work,” Thancred agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike sits between Thancred’s knees, and Thancred combs his hair into three equal parts, then begins to twist them together. “What do you and Valliant normally talk about, when she does this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything and everything,” Pike says. “When I’m more rested, I’ll usually run compositions by her. Granted, most of her contributions are ‘that sounded great, kid,’ but the confidence boost is worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Thancred hums. “You have so much hair, Pike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was long when I was a kid,” Pike replies. “Right up until I joined the military. There’s a standard cut, so I had to shave it all off. I could grow it out a bit, when I joined the Frumentarii, so that it didn’t look too obviously military, but the Spymaster thought long hair looked unkempt, so if I went too long without cutting it, they would...they would drag me to the barber and force me to get it shaved off. I learned to cut it down after the third time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred’s hands still for a moment. “Oh, Pike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a long time ago,” Pike says, like it fixes anything. “Anyway, point is, when I escaped to Thavnair, I couldn’t let it grow out, either, because of the bodyguard business. When I finally made the money to get to Eorzea, I swore to myself I wouldn’t cut my hair below my shoulders. Then Valliant started doing my hair, and I asked her what her upper limit would be on handling it. Haven’t cut it below that point ever since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love it,” Thancred says, fiercely, like if he doesn’t declare his love for it that second, Pike will go and chop it off. He resumes braiding it, a bit slower. “Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” Pike says. “It’s so nice. A pain to deal with after washing, but it’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And it...it reminds me of Elphina, just a little bit. She and I both took after our mother, getting all that long, thick curly hair. I wish I could wear it down more often, but it gets in my face too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Pike gasps. “You have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hair thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t gather from all the times I pulled your hair in bed?” Thancred says with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought that was for my sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t it be both?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Pike says. “I’ll wear it down more often, </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> you promise to make Valliant teach you how to braid it. I hate doing it myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gladly, though I think she’ll be sad to miss your little ritual,” Thancred replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, she’ll get it every other wash. That’s the compromise she made with Haurchefant, after all. Gods, you should have seen his first attempt at my hair. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt I’ll be much better.” Thancred ties the braid off. “Speaking of Haurchefant...your charms?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Pike glances to the bedside table, where they glitter in the faint light. He hasn't had them out except when washing his hair since he married Haurchefant, but... “I think I’ll...leave them out. For tonight, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred sucks in a deep breath. “You’re sure? I don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s…” Pike shrugs. “I think I need to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a lightness in his chest, as he stands and slides into the bed next to Thancred, cuddling close. A little sadness, as he catches sight of the charms once more. But mostly just like a weight he didn’t know has slid off his chest and let him take in a full breath of clean air for the first time in years.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>First free day, which of course led to the choice of the word prompt. I had an idea for Thancred seeing Pike with his hair down for the first time a long time ago, since I've established that Pike is almost always in braids, and I really like the way this came out. There's something so tender in freely giving over a very vulnerable part of yourself to someone, with the expectation that they will gladly receive it. The part about Pike leaving out his hair charms was something that came to me as I was writing, though! I honestly thought I would never write him leaving them off willingly, but it felt so right for the moment.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Prompt 7: Nonagenarian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As Chessamile looks down at the patient in her bed, she feels every bit the nonagenarian she is.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Warrior of Darkness delivers the Exarch to the Spagyrics in truly terrible condition. He’s exhausted, clearly, and bruised all over, like he’s been beaten severely. He’s soaking wet, and judging by the shivers that wrack his body, mildly hypothermic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did Chessamile mention the gaping bullet wound?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Warrior of Darkness cowers under her baleful glare, and she feels somewhat pleased that he doesn’t immediately try to argue with her. Clearly, he has experience with angry healers, and knowing not to push back against them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We did first aid in the field,” Pike says. “Cleaned and wrapped the wound, tried to keep him warm as best as I could. He wouldn’t let me remove his clothes, despite how wet they were, so we wrapped whatever blankets we could find around him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to let him swim?” Chessamile asks, scanning him with a quick spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I retrieved him from underwater, yes,” Pike replies. “I offered to carry him, since I can breathe underwater, but he’s...difficult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you,” the Exarch grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m aware, Raha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll need your robes off,” Chessamile says briskly, reading through the results of her spell. “Don’t argue with me, Exarch. I’ve been treating you since </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was young, you know I’ll cut them from you if necessary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bullet wound is a clear through-and-through.” Pike shows no signs of leaving, and the Exarch fiddles with the clasps of his robes uncomfortably. “Alphinaud says it missed anything major, but I presume you’ll want to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pike!” The Exarch finally interrupts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you turn around?” The Exarch’s face is bright red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like it’s nothing I’ve seen before,” Pike says with an eye roll, and Chessamile nearly snorts as she hands over a warming potion to the Exarch. He shoots her a displeased look before downing it, the shivers stopping as soon as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not as if you need to be here for this. You aren’t a healer,” the Exarch reminds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I don’t know, Raha,” Pike says. “Last time I left you alone, you went and tried to kill yourself to save my life. Forgive me if I’m worried you may decide to die regardless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a chill in the air, and the Exarch looks stricken, blush draining into a pale white, starkly contrasting the thread of crystal that runs up his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chessamile sighs. “Go,” she says to Pike, her voice brokering no argument. “He will be safe under my care, I swear to you. If anything with his condition changes, or I need more information, I will send a messenger to collect you. But I will not have you stressing out my patient any further.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike’s ears fall with shame, and he bows lightly to her, before heading out of the infirmary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chessamile helps the Exarch undress and conducts a complete examination before helping him into a soft cotton robe. They don’t speak through this, besides Chessamile prompting him to turn this way or that, and asking if he feels any sharp pains. Alphinaud was right, the bullet missed anything vital, and the wound has already begun to knit itself back together, like most of the Exarch’s injuries do. She gives him a potion to help with promise and a salve for the bruises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can ask what he meant,” the Exarch says quietly, when she’s proclaimed him healthy, for the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About the ‘dying to save him’ or about ‘seeing it all before?’” Chessamile says, a wry smile twisting at her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Exarch blushes again. “Either, though I imagine you can guess as to his meaning on the second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Chessamile replies. “Frankly, I don’t think it’s much of my concern, what you would do or had done for that boy. I’m not nearly old enough to lecture you, my lord.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Exarch laughs. “I suppose not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if I may say, I think you may owe your friend an apology,” Chessamile continues. “Clearly, your actions had a profound effect on him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Exarch looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together and apart. “It was a necessary cruelty. Or so I thought, at the time. Pike...his husband gave his life to save his, and so he has a somewhat more pronounced reaction to repeat attempts. I don’t know if an apology would suffice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet you owe him one, anyway,” Chessamile points out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Exarch nods. “You are correct.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’ll be laid up here for some time, until your energy returns, and a courier can return with your clothing.” Chessamile pats him lightly on the shoulder. “Use that time to think up something that will, at least, go some way to bridging the gap between you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Thank you for your efforts as always, Chessamile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph. All you heroes, you’ll send my hairs gray, one of these days.” But she smiles, and squeezes the Exarch’s shoulder before departing to take care of the rest of her myriad duties.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Prompt 9: Lush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Pike perches above the world and stares out at the lush forest beneath him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Of all the places in Eorzea, Pike likes the trees of the Shroud the best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s been to a lot of places, in his line of work, but none of them match the insane forests of the Shroud. The trees seem to stretch on for </span>
  <em>
    <span>miles</span>
  </em>
  <span> into the air, their boughs waving in the bright blue sky. From the top, you could see the sky, unbroken by building or plant or even mountain; just clear blue stretching on forever and ever, like a great ocean above you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike had climbed each of the tallest trees in the Shroud, by this point. It was part and parcel to being Miqo’te—they liked high places where they could spot their prey. Of course, Pike went much higher than hunting posts would be, high up the trees where the branches were liable to snap if he didn’t step as careful as a mouse. He would dig his claws into the trunk, no wider than his wrist at some points, and stare at the blue, blue sky. Sometimes, he envied birds, getting to fly like this at any point they wished. Airships made a poor comparison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t climbed during the night before today, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he thought the sky of day was an ocean, this was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>city</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The stars were so numerous that in places they seemed to overlap each other, fighting for position in an endless expanse of night. They twinkled and shined together, and Pike could see the constellations like they were drawing themselves before him. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light of the stars and the moon, hanging full in the sky, was enough to cast the greenery of the Shroud into a strange grey scale. Pike was used to the dark, bred for it by nature of being a Keeper of the Moon, and yet he’d never seen the night like this, so bright and shining. The night was always a reflection of white snow, blinding him, or so focused on his target that he could barely remember there was supposed to be light at all. It made him laugh with wonder, then nearly tip over out of the tree with the motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes to </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There’s rain coming, likely in the next few hours, judging by the petrichor that floated on the breeze. The bright smell of pine and cedar, common in the Shroud. A smell of dander and fur that nearly makes Pike sneeze, laden down heavy in the air. And a thousand other things, too blended together to name, just simply categorized under </span>
  <em>
    <span>forest</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Pike strains, he can hear the nocturnal animals beginning to rise. An owl, hooting in the distance, the howl of a pack of coyotes on the hunt, the faint buzzing of insects leaving their homes to begin their patrols. The distance to the ground and the thick canopy of trees muffles them slightly, but they remind Pike that he’s not alone out here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of it felt familiar in a way, like some long lost part of him finally sighing and curling up before the fire like an old dog. Maybe it was another part of being Miqo’te, as his people had come from this land, and the forest was encoded into his genes long before he’d even been born. Maybe it was simply the feeling of belonging, because he could see Gridania from here, could nearly point out where the Archer’s Guild lay. Or maybe it was simply his joy at being in the forest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Deep in his soul, something whispers of a city, never quiet even in the dead of night. Where the rain falls on hot paved streets, bringing with it that petrichor scent. Where the white stones of the towering buildings paint themselves in gray in the moon, as two friends lay on the roof and paint themselves constellations.)</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Part of living in Washington is having a strange fondness for big trees and industrial buildings. </p><p>Fun fact! Though I believe Amaurot is modelled after New York (judging by the architectural style of the buildings, anyway), when I first arrived there, it looked so much like Seattle to me. Seattle has a lot of those huge buildings that make you feel so insignificant and irrelevant to the world, and the dreary color palette from being under the sea reminded me of overcast days (which are basically all you get in Seattle lol). And so I got this strange feeling of being in a place that felt so familiar, even though I'd never seen it before. It was heartbreaking when I found out we were from there in a past life, because I <i>felt</i> that so strongly.</p><p>Also, when I was a kid, we moved around a lot, until we moved to Washington. And there was something about arriving here, smelling that petrichor scent (which is the smell of the earth after it rains, if you weren't aware) that felt a whole lot like coming home. My mom was born in Oregon and grew up in Washington, so maybe my mitochondrial DNA really just vibed with Washington! That's what I was trying to convey with Pike, here. I hope it landed well!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Prompt 10: Avail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thancred has been trying to forget his past, to no avail.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Thancred has a PTSD based panic attack.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thancred wakes in the morning to sunlight streaming over his face, and Pike curled into his side, softly purring in contentment. Thancred smiles at him, and runs a hand over Pike’s face, tracing where the wisps of hair have won themselves free of his braids. He trails down to Pike’s markings, the thin white stripes that still, after all this time, have not returned to their former coloring.</p><p>At his touch, Pike starts to wake, interrupting his purring with a soft snort. There’s something Thancred loves about the moment right after Pike wakes, before the walls come up and Pike gets that faintly haunted look. It’s when Pike looks only twenty-five, like he hasn’t lived a thousand lifetimes’ worth of hurt. When his smiles, like the one he directs at Thancred right now, are soft with naked, open <em> love</em>. This is a gift only for Thancred, who can make Pike feel so secure that he lets the paranoia go for a little bit.</p><p>It curls through Thancred like a warm fire on a cold day, and he smiles back at Pike.</p><p>“I love you,” Pike says, as Thancred slides the knife between his ribs.</p><p> Lahabrea laughs cold and high in his ears. Warm red blood slides over Thancred’s fingers as he tries to stem the wound. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Pike, please don’t die, I’m sorry,” he chants.</p><p>The life dies in Pike’s eyes as he gazes at Thancred with betrayal.</p><p>Thancred startles awake, blood rushing in his ears. He’s bolt upright, and Pike has his hands on his face, softly repeating, “I’m here, I’m safe.”</p><p>Thancred surges forward, running his hands over Pike’s side. There’s no tell-tale stickiness of blood, and there’s only Pike’s soft “oof” as Thancred digs his fingers into where he’d driven the blade into him. </p><p>In his dream.</p><p>Thancred breathes a sigh of relief and lets his head fall onto Pike’s shoulder. Pike cards fingers through his hair and lets him calm, bringing his breathing to a normal rate.</p><p>“‘m sorry,” Thancred says into his shoulder.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Pike says. “I get it.”</p><p>He does. Thancred’s woken him from his share of nightmares, soothing him as he cries over watching his sister die again and again, watching his husband die, watching his own hands kill and kill. Pike doesn’t talk about the content of his night terrors very often, but from what he’s said, he’s seen each and every one of their friends fall under his blade. </p><p>Thancred only ever sees Pike, and maybe that’s because Pike was the only one he’s attacked while he was possessed by Lahabrea. And Valliant, of course, but Valliant wouldn’t be left so vulnerable to him like Pike would be. No, Pike is the only one who would be caught unawares by Thancred, who would lay his life in Thancred’s hands and trust him to take care of it. </p><p>He catches a glimpse of stark white burns on Pike’s arms, and he feels sick. </p><p>Thancred pulls away from Pike, settling himself on the other side of the bed. Pike follows him, hovering but not touching, and it just adds to the guilt swirling in Thancred’s gut.</p><p>“How,” he starts, then stops, the words flying from him.</p><p>Pike waits, patient, always patient, for him to continue. </p><p>“How can you love me, when I’ve hurt you like this?” Thancred asks, his voice broken.</p><p>“Thancred,” Pike says. He lays a hand on Thancred’s shoulder finally. “It wasn’t <em> you</em>.”</p><p>“It was my face. My body. My <em> aether</em>.”</p><p>“It wasn’t your heart, though, and that’s everything that matters.” Pike lays a hand over Thancred’s heart, and it beats in response. “I’ve had a lot of people hurt me, Thancred, and I know exactly at whose feet to lay the blame. But you have never, <em> never </em> hurt me. And you wouldn’t willingly.”</p><p>“But I—”</p><p>“Thancred.” Pike shakes his head. “I know you feel guilty for what happened, and I won’t try to tell you not to, I know it doesn’t work like that. But I’m not going to let you push me away because you feel bad. I tried that already, remember? And neither of us was happier for it. So you’re stuck with me until you can honestly say you don’t love me anymore.”</p><p>Thancred kisses him. “Thank you.”</p><p>“I love you,” Pike says in return.</p><p>“I love you, too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Pike gets to be the comforting boyfriend, for once :D</p><p>Part of the reason I really like the dynamic between these two is because I think they understand each other in a way no one else can (or at least, that's how it feels to them). There's something about broken people filling in the cracks for each other that really hits different.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Prompt 11: Ultracrepidarian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Orpheus stares at Venat, at this ultracrepidarian, and he feels his blood begin to boil.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He waits until their guest has departed, before he steps out of the shadow and speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Venat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Orpheus feels a bit of cruel glee at the way they jump, turning to face him. Their eyes widen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Azem,” they gasp, and Orpheus barely contains his flinch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not any more,” he replies. “Not since a Convocation of fools sacrificed all they are to an eikon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t look ashamed in the least, staring at him impassively through their plain mask. “Of course, teacher. My apologies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Orpheus feels no real connection to </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> title any longer, either, but since he’s come here to deliver a lesson to his former pupil, he supposes it may be accurate. “You wanted to speak with me, did you not? Tell me of your plans, child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nod. “The Convocation wishes to sacrifice the new life on this world to Zodiark, to bring back those we lost,” they say, and Orpheus sucks in a breath. For all he’s heard of Venat’s plans, he hasn’t heard of </span>
  <em>
    <span>this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “We intend to stop them. But with the force of an eikon on their side, we must—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Repeat their mistakes and summon your own?” Orpheus raises a careful eyebrow. “Sacrifice yourself to make the heart of an eikon and do battle with them on their level? Potentially bring about the destruction of what remains of our people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They cannot be allowed to trade unwilling lives for those who have already gone!” Venat shouts. “For our people to make a sacrifice, that I could bear, even if I agreed with you that it was not a good course of action. You taught me to respect the free will of others, teacher, and I did. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But these new souls are so small, so powerless compared to our might, and they cannot fight us. So I will fight for them. Is that not what the seat of the Traveller was built on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not lecture me, you impudent </span>
  <em>
    <span>child,</span>
  </em>
  <span> on what my seat once stood for,” Orpheus snarls. “You cannot predict how this summoning will turn out. You cannot know if, once your eikon has sated itself on Zodiark, that its hunger will not turn to those self-same souls you wish to protect! You have seen what Elidibus became, what he has been twisted into as the soul of that thrice-damned eikon. He is a shadow of his former self, his soul become one with a swirling mass of people who wished only for pain to stop for those they loved. There is nothing of himself in there, and you will become the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our goal is only to protect,” Venat says, raising their chin in defiance. “So our eikon shall become a god of protection. If I have to subsume myself to that will, then so be it. That is the price I will pay to protect those lives that can be cradled in my bosom. You have no power to stop me, Orpheus. You are only one sad, tired old man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are too like him, and where there was once pride for how they had turned out, there is only a deep regret that he did not teach them how to temper that iron will. “Maybe that is so,” Orpheus agrees. “But that does not mean I will not try to find a way. Do not send any more of your </span>
  <em>
    <span>followers</span>
  </em>
  <span> after me. You will not like what happens to them, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns and leaves in a ray of shining light.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had all my old head canons destroyed by 5.3, so clearly I needed to make more. </p><p>I thought it would be interesting if Venat was the student of Azem! I have no idea if the Convocation works that way, but I think the seat of Azem would benefit from nurturing that spirit of adventure. And the way Venat speaks as a natural leader, as someone who can clearly make allies easily, it makes them likely to be a candidate for being trained into that role. Again, though, this is all head canon, so who knows what other holes more expansions will blow in my theories!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Prompt 12: Tooth and Nail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After fighting his own doubt tooth and nail, this feels almost underwhelming.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Pike takes a month-long leave of absence after he kills Yuudai.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Medical leave, thanks to the blade Pike had put through his leg one mile before making it to the Mizuho outpost. Just long enough to look like he actually took the blade in battle without causing any more long lasting damage to his body. As it is, it shreds the muscle in his thigh enough that the conscripted conjurer is sweating by the time he finishes healing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain is worth the time to </span>
  <em>
    <span>think. </span>
  </em>
  <span>To sit with his sister and enjoy her presence, and wonder if it's worth risking this—her playing in the rare Garlean sun, turning beautiful smiles on her beloved big brother—for his own conscience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t sleep well the whole month, waking with silent shouts trapped in his throat and the after image of blood on his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the third week of his self-inflicted break, when Pike is sitting at the kitchen table in Doctor Halfbrook’s kitchen, a long-chilled cup of tea in his hands, he’s startled by the sound of tiny feet on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elphina is eleven now, verging on twelve, and looks more and more like their mother every day. Which means she looks like him—except without the bright eyes of hunger and the weight of caring solely for a baby sister when he isn’t even old enough to not cry for his mother with every nightmare. He’s thankful, that she’s had a childhood free of such burdens, but the cost…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not sleeping well,” she states. “What’s wrong, Pikey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hasn’t called him that since she was really little, and it brings tears to his eyes. Elphina sees this and wraps him in a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m struggling with a decision,” he tells her. “I’m not...happy, sweetling, and I could change that, but it’d be dangerous for the both of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t smile much, any more,” she says. “You haven’t been here in a while, Pikey. Not really. I miss my brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s it, then, isn’t it? Because even if it’s dangerous, they’re all the other has left. He needs to be there for her, and if he doesn’t leave now, he’ll lose himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits until they’re about to send him for another mission. He’s the Empire’s best asset, he knows that, and Aper will not stop chasing him if he goes missing, no matter what. And bringing his sister means that he can’t just fake his death. So the only option is to kill Aper and disappear, hopefully putting enough distance between them before anyone notices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only one place that’ll be safe from Garlemald—Eorzea. He’s heard colleagues complain about the fight they’re putting up, how they’ve taken the insane number of adventures in their borders and turned them into a fighting force that has had good results in beating back Garlemald. If he’s careful, he can bring enough resources to indebt himself to their cause, and make sure they win the war and keep the both of them safe. He’s paid a ship to take them to Thavnair, and from there they’ll find a ship to Eorzea, and they will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elphina packs a bag with nothing but the essentials. They both agree that the instruments are too bulky to carry with them, even if it clearly pains the both of them to leave their mother’s kraviklyr behind. They play one last song on it, and Elphina sleeps in his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what he’s about to do, but she doesn’t need to. She’s always been a smart kid, way smarter than him, and she hugs him goodbye with a quiet dignity on the night it will happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike is set to meet with Aper, as he does before every mission. Nobody will bat an eye if he’s carrying plenty of weapons, as it’s usual for the Frumentarii. And Aper, always suspicious of his own people turning against him, makes the meeting a solitary event, far from the main building and the prying eyes of others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike is not people, of course. He’s a blade that Aper wields against the Empire’s enemies. A tool to be shined and polished and admired. Not a threat, because he’s broken each and every of the Frumentarii to ore to be forged into his great tools. After all, what craftsman would expect his hammer to rise up and attack him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, it’s painfully easy to kill Aper. He simply enters the room and plunges the blade into his jugular before he can even blink. Aper’s face doesn’t even have time to shift to a shocked expression before he dies, stuck on that smug smile that Pike hates. He kicks the body on his way out and locks the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though this is for the best, Pike wishes there was a desperate clash of blades. Him finally proving his worth to a total bastard who has used and manipulated him since he was a child. That he would have battle scars to remind himself of what he did to finally win his freedom from this awful, awful place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, all he has is a memory, and a lock of blue hair woven into a beaded bracelet around his wrist.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Prompt 13: Perfervid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Y'shtola would not be one you would describe as perfervid, but recent events had left that feeling an apt descriptor.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Y’shtola, sit, I can brew the tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike tugs the kettle gently. Y’shtola knew that he had the strength to simply take it from her, and so in this instance he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>asking</span>
  </em>
  <span> her to let him take it. Though she lacked the ability to fully discern his emotions from his face any longer, she couldn’t miss the simple concern that twisted around every word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It burns something fierce in her, and she pulls her kettle back, scowling. “I would prefer to do it myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike acquiesces, his gentle resistance disappearing. He sits at the small table, and she busies herself with running the water and preparing the mugs. She grabs two tins of leaves from the shelf, and something makes her pause. The second of the tins is too light, too empty to be the smoky oolong that she had just replaced for Pike. Which means that someone had switched her tins around </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fierce burning rises, and she turns, hurtling the tin of leaves away from her. There’s a soft thud, and Pike hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got quite the arm,” he says, and she can see the vague shape of his aether shake his hand out. “Now, what did the chamomile do to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—” Y’shtola stops, and grips the counter behind her. “It’s not the oolong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. Sorry, Shtola, I told Hoary to stay away from the tea. Do you want me to fix it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all Pike does. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fix things.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He hovers, waiting for her weakness to raise its head, so he can sweep in and play the hero, like he’s been doing for her since her vision disappeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like how everyone has been tiptoeing around her, like they’re afraid she might walk right into danger if they take their eyes off her for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need you to coddle me,” she hisses. “I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfectly capable—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not trying to coddle you. I just wanted to rearrange your damn tea tins, Y’shtola. It’s not an attack on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop! Stop trying to fix things for me! My vision’s not going to come back if you somehow manage to make everything in my life perfectly easy! I need to know how to deal with it, when you’re not there for me, Pike. You can’t always be there to protect me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence stretches between them, like a yawning chasm of grief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Pike sighs, and tosses the tea tin back to her. She catches it, listening to the way it whistles through the air to know when exactly to snatch it out of the air. “I know,” Pike says. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Your lack of vision is proof of that. Thancred not being able to teleport is proof of that. My dead fucking husband is proof of that. Proof of my failures is all around me constantly, I don’t need you to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell me—</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he breaks off into a frustrated noise. “I’m just scared, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Learn to deal with it,” Y’shtola says, though all the heat has gone out of her. “You need to learn to deal with it so I don’t hear pity in your voice. The only thing that is different about me is my vision. If I need your help, I will ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Pike says. She hears him scrub a hand over his face. “Okay. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Y’shtola nods, and then looks down at the tin in her hands. “...All that being said, I do need you to find your oolong if you don’t wish to drink chamomile. Is the other one at least my green tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I think Hoary just switched the chamomile and the oolong. He was trying to see if he could carve some symbols into the tins for you, so you could feel them. I think he got the idea from my bracelet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is...smarter than I expected from him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hidden depths, Shtola. Hidden depths.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one was a difficult one for me. The word came up on my word of the day calendar for today so I decided to use it on the least relevant person as a challenge to myself, since it was a free day. "Perfervid" means "full of intense, deep emotion." So trying to find a case where Y'shtola would be really upset or intensely emotional left me with her dealing with her reduced sight. Kind of based her emotions on last weekend, when I fell down the stairs while moving my sister and busted my ankle and my knee, so bad that I couldn't help anymore. Feeling helpless and watching everyone else do all the work (including me trying to help my sister move lighter stuff out of her car and her literally giving me her purse and telling me to sit down :p) made me really annoyed and frustrated. I hope it came out well!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Prompt 14: Part</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part and parcel of being Pike’s lover is finding ways to make him feel loved.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here there be porn.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It starts, as many things with Pike and Thancred do, in their bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred’s got him tied to the bedposts with pretty silk scarves, taking him apart layer by layer. He has two fingers in Pike, while his mouth worships every inch of skin it can reach. He upgrades to three fingers, crooking his fingers in just the right angle to reach that spot, and is rewarded with Pike arching, straining against his bonds in a desperate attempt to seek some form of release. Thancred’s been careful not to touch his cock, and it’s angry red and leaking desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s utterly beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you,” Thancred croons. “So wanton. So beautiful. Do you want me to fuck you? Fill up that pretty little hole of yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike shakes as Thancred crooks his fingers again, and he moans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want your words, Pike,” he says. He loves to hear how broken Pike sounds when he’s like this, so desperate for Thancred’s touch. “Tell me how much you want me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Pike begs. “Please fuck me, Thancred, fill me up, I want your cock so fucking bad, </span>
  <em>
    <span>gods—</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The last part cuts off in a keening whine as Thancred twists his fingers one more time, before sliding his fingers out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he reaches for the lubricant, he bends down to whisper in Pike’s ear. “Good boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike’s eyes roll back in his head as he comes with a full body shudder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Thancred can only blink. It’s not the first time Pike has come without his cock being touched, but it usually requires Thancred to have his fingers in him and a few days of pent-up frustration. Not the case today, because they’ve had a bit of a holiday from work, and they’ve spent every night together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike comes down from his high, breathing heavily. “Wow,” he says. “That’s...new.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Thancred replies. “Do you want me to fuck you still, or do you need a rest? That looked intense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’d like to,” Pike purrs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always, darling.” Thancred dumps a heavy amount of lubricant onto his hand, and begins to spread it across his cock. With his free hand, he frees Pike’s legs, so he can better adjust his position, and gently manhandles him into . He lines up with Pike’s entrance, and guides himself in, slowly, giving Pike time to recuperate. Pike likes being fucked like this, just after orgasm, because of how intense it feels, but Thancred always starts off slow, so it’s easier to stop if it gets to be too much for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike’s eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a breathy moan. “Thancred,” he sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred takes that as a sign to pick up the pace, and he snaps his hips up, drawing a sharp noise out of Pike. It’s the good, “please keep going or I may maul you” kind of noise, and Thancred obliges, bracing his hand on Pike’s knee as he hammers away at him. He wraps a hand around Pike’s length, already hard again (that insane refractory period is a blessing and a curse) and draws more noises from Pike, choked noises that each accompany a fierce clench that leaves Thancred panting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So good for me,” Thancred says, as he feels his peak building. “My perfect Pike, so beautiful and all mine. So talented and wonderful. Come for me, be good for me, won’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike does, falling apart with a call of Thancred’s name, and Thancred tips over the edge after him, calling Pike’s in response. He goes down on one elbow, body limp after his orgasm is ripped from him, and presses a messy kiss to Pike’s neck. “Love you,” he says, as is routine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you, too,” Pike replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, when Pike is untied and they’ve both cleaned the mess from their bodies, Thancred decides to talk about it. “So...praise is good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m vain,” Pike answers with a laugh. “So yes. I don’t know why we haven’t tried that before, honestly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be fair, it’s been a while since we’ve been able to slow down.” Thancred huffs a laugh. “You’re very good at leaving me speechless, darling, and our frantic sessions leave very little time for my mind to do anything more than grunt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a good thing I like your sexy grunts,” Pike laughs.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>A few days later, Pike brings Thancred a cup of tea, and Thancred smiles and whispers, “Good boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike’s pupils blow out and he drags Thancred into their bedroom. The tea grows cold.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*throws smut and runs* </p><p>I hope this was any good? I haven't written porn in a while (because I spend the whole time feeling rather embarrassed &gt;_&lt; ) so I'm out of practice.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Prompt 15: Ache</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The pain of his sister's death has not quite faded into a dull ache.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first anniversary of Elphina’s death, Pike gets the drunkest he’s ever been in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a smart move, he requested the week after the anniversary off, claiming family business. In the ninth months he’s worked as a guard for a minor noble in Thavnair, he hasn’t asked for a single day off—even covering other shifts on his days off—so they give it to him easily. The master of the guard, an Au Ra man with a fierce glare and a kinder smile, claps a hand on his shoulder and tells him he hopes the business resolves well. Pike forces a smile and nods in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s in a bar the next day, the day of her death, and drinks until everything fades away. He wakes in a strange man’s bed, absconds before the man even stirs, and goes back to drink himself into another stupor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the end of the week, Pike’s slipped from a different bed every night, and remembers none of it. The last night, however, conscious of the fact that he needs to be somewhat functional at work the next day, he drinks less. The man from the first night appears, and takes umbrage with the fact that Pike had, apparently, ignored him every night since the first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly,” Pike says, too numb to feel the man’s mounting ire, “I barely remember waking up that morning, let alone the night before. You clearly didn’t make an impression.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just drunk enough that the first hit catches him by surprise, pain blossoming across his cheek. He tackles the man before the second, sending them crashing to the ground in a tumble of limbs, and enjoys bloodying his knuckles against the man’s teeth. It's a far cry from the clean, calculated deaths of his former career.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike shows up for work the next day looking like a complete mess, to the concern of the master of the guard, but he feels more alive than he has in a year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second anniversary, he repeats the process; six days spent in a blind, drunken stupor, and one spent drinking slowly, searching for a fight. He finds one in protecting a young woman from a large man who seems intent on putting his hands where they aren’t wanted. The man’s drunker than last year’s, and the fight ends quicker than Pike would like, but he gets in a good hit to Pike’s ribs, and the vague rattle when he inhales makes it worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t stick around for long, wary of how the woman looks like she wants to thank him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third anniversary, he skips the drinking and goes right to the fighting. He gets banned from three bars in the process, but it’s worth it, because on the sixth day he’s so beaten and bruised he can’t move, and there’s no room to think about his dead little sister in between the pain. He’s dragged his aching corpse to the guard barracks, and when the master of the guard spots him looking halfway to death, he calls the healer despite Pike’s protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got three broken ribs,” the healer tells him. “You could’ve punctured a lung and died gasping for breath in this bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That pulls Pike up short. Despite all the risk-taking behavior, he doesn’t want to die just yet. He’s not sure he believes in an afterlife, or even that he wouldn’t be punished for his crimes in life and sent far from where his sister would be resting, but something in him longs to see the land he’d told her about. One more story for his little sister, to tell her once more of a land she couldn’t see. When he had that, then he could let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the fourth anniversary, Pike is too busy to even consider drinking. He’s taken another job, working as a courier in his spare time from taking every extra guard shift at the manor. He takes all his meals at the barracks, replaces his clothes only when they get so threadbare as to literally fall apart, and the bag of gil grows and grows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as busy as he is, he takes the day of Elphina’s death to spend in remembrance. It hurts, nearly as much as last year with the three broken ribs, but it’s faded from that first year. Just a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the fifth anniversary, Pike is on a boat, the salt water spraying his face. He sighs and folds himself over the railing, watching how the dying light refracts across the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you going to Eorzea?” A passenger asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike smiles. “Why else? Adventure.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Prompt 16: Lucubration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>All of Pike’s songs are produced after a severe period of lucubration.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Watch out, Pike’s composing,” Thancred says, as Valliant walks into the Rising Stones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valliant grimaces, and she sits at the table across from him. “Did he kick you out of your room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently I ‘disrupt the artistic process’,” Thancred grumbles, taking a sip of his tea. “I gave him a glass of water and I swear he wanted to chuck it at my head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valliant snorts. “What iteration of burning is he on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five—” There’s a deafening scream of frustration from down the hall, and the distinct sound of something going up in flames. “Never mind, six.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. Did you get the topic of this one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He woke me up at three in the morning to ramble about kittens as a metaphor for trees. I have no earthly idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valliant attempts to make that make sense for so long that she starts draining brain cells. Instead she just shakes her head and goes to make herself some tea. As she’s starting the kettle, she hears something down the hall shatter, and furious hissing and spitting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred sighs heavily and drops his head to the table. “He’s switched languages. This is going to be a long one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s turn is it to knock him out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mine, technically, but since Urianger was out of town on the last one, he gets to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly things go quiet, and they both look down the hall. “Is Urianger early?” Valliant asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door bursts open and Pike tumbles out, sword in hand. A wave of dark energy follows him, and he turns and runs to the common room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be mad,” he says, slashing at a tendril of darkness. “But I may have summoned a voidsent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valliant sighs and grabs her own sword. “Again?!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lucubration: laborious or intensive study. And what could be more laborious then summoning a literal demon? :3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Prompt 17: Fade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>His hair has faded in too many places to a light blue, a lingering reminder.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Pike takes a deep breath, and then faces himself in the mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard to tell what changes are a part of growing older, and what’s from the Light. He’d already found several lighter hairs before travelling to the First. It was a natural consequence of the extreme stress he’d lived under for nearly his whole life, and he’d merely brushed it off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, his hair is nearly half light blue strands. He pinches one in his hands, and it catches the light. For a second, he swears it glows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth tastes of ash, and he moves on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers trace over his cheeks. There’s the whisker-like tattoos that stretch over his cheeks, the ink bled out and replaced with white. At the wrong angles, they blend into his face. At the other wrong angles, they catch the light and appear to be glowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ash is back. He swallows against the bile that threatens to rise in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His skin is pale, but it’s always been. It’s not the alabaster of the people at the Inn at Journey’s Head. It just looks like he hasn’t soaked up the sun in a while, and that’s not unusual for a Keeper. So what if it’s because sometimes, when he looks at the sun shining bright across the sky, that he thinks about the Light returning, because he’d failed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least the night is easy. The night is a reminder that he succeeded in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike sighs and straightens. He’d succeeded in the end. That’s all that matters. There’s no sense in pondering the hypotheticals, like if Ardbert hadn’t been there, or if he’d been reborn already, or if he’d turned earlier and Ardbert hadn’t been able to give him the strength to resist the Light. It didn’t matter. Pike had won, he had killed Hades, and he had saved two realms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glares at his reflection, daring it to argue. It remains silent. Pike nods and turns on his heel, leaving the washroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, he lets the holy magic spark to his fingertips for the first time since he’d killed Hades. It’s still hard to look at, but he steels his nerves and looks. It’s just his magic. It’s not the light. It belongs to him, and he is not going to let this win.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Valliant,” he calls, letting the magic dissipate. “Wanna spar?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Prompt 19: Where the Heart Is</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Home is where the heart is”, they say, and he supposes that might be true.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Do you ever get homesick?” Alphinaud asks Pike, one day. “For Garlemald, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes,” Pike admits. “It’s kind of dumb, I think, considering everything that happened to me there. But it's still the place that I got to see my little sister’s smile for the first time, you know? And there’s good people there. Just a lot of assholes with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” Alphinaud replies quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He misses Sharlayan less and less the more time he spends in Eorzea, but it means that the days he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> miss it ache like no pain he’s had before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes it’s a longing for the Studium, days spent in quiet study and youthful arrogance. A longing for the innocent boy who thought that drawing portraits for girls would make them turn pretty smiles on them; the kind of boy who could look upon a sea of unfamiliar men and women twice or more his age and believe himself able to outsmart them. For the days where Alisaie’s temper wasn’t quite the finely honed steel it was now, and he could rile her up just to catalogue the colors her face could turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More often, it’s a longing for quiet days spent in his grandfather’s office, the quiet rustle of pages and scratching of a quill. Or the not so quiet days, where Grandfather would turn a mischievous smile on the two of them, and ask them if they’d like to learn a new spell. Turning magic through their fingers, sparkling in the dark. Summoning his first carbuncle, and the proud smile and kind hand ruffling through his hair. The first prank Alisaie and he had played with their new-found skill, using the bright flash to steal pastries from the kitchen, giggling to themselves as Cook yelled and rubbed her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grounding they’d gotten had hardly tarnished the light of that childish joy and the sweet taste on his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there’s the days he isn’t homesick at all. When he remembers his father’s quiet words to Grandfather, not even giving him the dignity of emotion. Sitting quietly at home after seeing him off to a foreign shore, a tension thrumming through each of the remaining Leveilleurs. Returning home from the Studium after they’d heard, to mourn in quiet, stifling silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And before that, the quiet of their home, when Grandfather was away. When Father was too busy with his work, and the quiet would bubble between the twins until they broke it with some manner of mischief making, just to remind the world that it was, in fact, still turning. That they were present in that too-empty house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alphinaud,” Pike says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things were never quiet around the Rising Stones. Pike was always chattering or singing or bickering good-naturedly with one of the other Scions. Alisaie was always practicing some form of magic or swordplay, and Valliant was with her, barking out instructions or grinning gleefully through the clash of steel on steel. Thancred would prowl, quietly, until he’d caught someone by surprise, and then his mad cackles would echo through the building. Y’shtola would be there, with dry, witty commentary, and Urianger with her, to keep the peanut gallery going. And the other Scions, Riol or Hoary or Coultenet, celebrating their good fortune. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And in amongst them all, the spirit of those they’d lost, always there but never suffocating. Never feeling like mourning clothes in a large manor house, a study that would never fill again with his grandfather’s smile and the sparkle of magic. No, it felt like laughter on the wind, the crackle of fire aether blowing hot on his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Alphinaud says, relaxing into the grass and staring up into the bright Mor Dhona sky. “I think I’m quite fine. I’m home, after all.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love this arrogant boy so much. I love his character arc, and I think he and Pike have a special relationship. He's about the age (a year or two younger) that Pike's sister would be, but he's very different from her, so he gets to love another little sibling while also not feeling like he's replacing her. And I'm really interested in the relationship he has with his family outside of Louisoix and Alisaie (I've been misspelling her name this whole time, send help). It's interesting that his father seems so unconcerned that his teenage children went to a whole different country, and hasn't so much as sent a letter to the two of them as far as I can tell. Thought I would explore that a bit!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Prompt 23: Shuffle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It feels like he’s only been shuffling through life up to this point, and now he’s truly walking on his own two feet.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It takes some time after the doors open for him to wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>G’raha finds himself in a tent, with Biggs looking down at him. It feels strange, that Pike or Cid isn’t the one to greet him when he wakes, but perhaps they’ve been at his bedside for so long that they were forced to rest by a healer. It seems like the kind of thing they would do, and he smiles to himself at the thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Biggs?” He says, his voice hoarse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man jumps, looking confused. “How’d you know my name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>G’raha blinks. “Why wouldn’t I know it? It hasn’t been </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> long since NOAH, has it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir,” Biggs says, and suddenly G’raha knows something is horribly, direly wrong. “The Crystal Tower has been sealed for over two centuries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>G’raha freezes. “I—no, it can’t have—Pike would have—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Warrior of Light?” Biggs asks. G’raha nods mutely. “I’m sorry to say this, friend, but he perished in the Eighth Umbral Calamity. According to our records, Master Garlond was nowhere near close to opening the Tower by the time the Warrior of Light fell. Hells, it took us two hundred years just to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>G’raha feels something inside of him crack. “The Eighth Umbral Calamity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. The Garlean Empire, back then, they made this thing called Black Rose…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>G’raha listens, his heart growing heavier and heavier with each passing word. Pike, dead by some horrible poison, and most of the world with him. And G’raha sleeping away in the Crystal Tower peacefully, all the while. It sickens him, and he feels shaky by the time Biggs finishes with his story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you…” G’raha starts, and he has to pause to take a deep breath. “Why awaken me, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why would you bring me, so cruelly, into a world without him? Instead of letting me sleep until his soul returned?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we’re going to reverse it,” Biggs says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>G’raha blinks. Reassess. Then he demands, “Tell me how.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fear not, my friend. It seems we shall meet again soon, if I have anything to say about it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And I'm back! Needed a break for a few days; I'll make up the prompts I missed eventually. </p><p>Wanted to do a bit of a G'raha thing! We've seen him well after he's woken a lot of times, but I wanted to explore him right after he woke up. It seems to me that it would have been quite disorienting, waking up 200 years in the future with the world in shambles and the man he loves dead. So I thought I'd write a bit about it! I wanted to make this longer, but I honestly couldn't think of anything else to say that wouldn't be retreading the same ground we've all seen.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Prompt 24: Gleam</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A beam of light refracts off the steel of the sword, shining across the training field.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Again,” Valliant states, watching as Pike finishes his last strike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike nods, and starts through his usual strikes again. The training dummy, looking rather worse for the wear by this point, weathers the abuse for one more round, and as he finishes, Pike turns to Valliant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s frowning, tilting her head. “The last one again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods again, and slashes through the dummy, then turns and drives his sword through its heart. It’s enough to finally put the poor thing out of its misery, and with a clatter, the head falls off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Pike says, sheathing his sword in a clumsy maneuver, still not used to the length. He’d thought it’d be an easy thing to pick up, after his training with the knives of the Frumentarii, but everything was different about using a sword. “I suppose we don’t have to worry about my ability to deal damage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ran through the strike series ten times before that happened,” Valliant points out. “I’ve pinpointed your issue. On the third strike, you’re overbalancing forward before you turn. It makes the first hit of it weaker, because you need to pull back to fully execute the turn. Everything else looks good, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike blows out a huff of air, the fine hairs that escaped his braids fluffing up in protest. “If I fix that, I’ll certainly mess something else up.” He drops to the dirt, starfishing. “Remind me why I gave my bow up for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lot harder to protect people without a shield,” Valliant replies, without pause, as she sits next to him. “C’mon, kid, you’ll get it eventually. It’s not like there’s a timeline on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike draws his sword and holds it up to the sun, considering. “I’m not used to being bad at things. I’ve been good at archery since I was a kid. Dad didn’t even have to teach me all that much, I just picked up a bow and went at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your muscles are used to drawing a bowstring, and I’m reliably informed that they’re wildly different from those used to swordplay,” Valliant says. “You were a blank slate as a child, and more built for such things. There’s a reason your people mostly stick to archery and knife skills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Pike hums in response. “Do you think I can do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would I train you if you couldn’t?” Valliant asks, nudging him. “There’s nothing you can’t do if you decide to, Pike. If you can face down primals, several dragons, and an Ascian, becoming a paladin is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span> of what you can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike sighs. “Why do you have to be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>motivating,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he whines. “Just let me give up and wallow in my failings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike climbs to his feet. “Guess I’ll get back to working on my sword skills then,” he grumbles. He pauses, then shoots a grateful glance to Valliant. “Thanks, Vall. I appreciate this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valliant grins as she finishes standing, and throws an arm around his shoulder. “Anytime, kid.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>